


my body is your body, I won't tell anybody

by theaeblackthorn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Hand Jobs, Marijuana, Sexual Content, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaeblackthorn/pseuds/theaeblackthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would you... did you ever think about it with me?" </p><p>Stiles licks his lips, pulls himself up so he's leaning back against the arm of the sofa, Erica still above him. "Are we-- do you mean, sex?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	my body is your body, I won't tell anybody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlphaFeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaFeels/gifts).



> for [alphafeels](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaFeels), who among other things asked for erica/stiles, with drugs, fluff, and panties. hope you like it!
> 
> massive thanks to [ingberry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/pseuds/ingberry) for the beta and handholding!

"Have you ever, y'know?" Erica's voice is rough, a hint of hoarseness that Stiles never thought werewolves could get, not with their healing. Why don't they have perfect everything?

He still hasn't figured out how they heal, he's got a half drawn up chart in his mind, something about the urgency of the injury, how it was caused, maybe their intentions and their needs. He's not sure--

"Stiles?" There's the glowing end of the joint hovering in front of his eyes, bright orange and rapidly dying. "You want some more?"

He takes the join from Erica as he feels around for the lighter; he was too slow -- the joint is out now. The lighter's got to be about here somewhere, he lit up a minute ago, he's sure. The weed's already making things a little hazy. It's good stuff, he's not sure where Erica got it, or why it works on werewolves, but it does, because Erica's just as messed up right now as he is, he thinks, maybe, probably. 

"Here you go, honey." There's a lighter being waved just below his chin. It takes a minute for him to figure out where to put the joint, because he can't hold the it and the lighter in the same hand, he doesn't-- fingers. It's not until he's got the joint held between his lips and the lighter clasped firmly in his hand that he remembers that he has another hand, the hand that's he's got buried in Erica's curls. 

He clicks the lighter once, twice, watches the flame go the opposite way from where he wants it before he remembers: gravity, hot air rises, or something like that. Erica's a heavy weight draped over his legs, head resting on his stomach. Heads are heavier than they look. 

"I need to--" He starts to pull himself up and Erica makes a noise of disappointment as he jostles her head. He strokes her hair, murmurs apologies until he's upright enough to light the joint. 

The smoke burns his lungs on the inhale, and the flood through his system is immediate, the buzz under his skin spreading and relaxing him, until he can slide back down onto the sofa. 

It'd been a houseparty originally, a birthday party, for Scott of course, the only person that could get them all here. Except for Boyd, who had to work, and Derek, who Stiles isn't even sure anyone invited. 

He doesn't know how they got here, how they got from a rag-tag group of people to this almost space, the space where Allison and Erica can be in the same room, albeit with glaring, where Scott actually works to try and keep them together. 

Stiles is pretty sure Erica's just here because Isaac wanted her to be.

But the couples are long gone: Jackson and Lydia, Allison and Scott. Isaac passed out somewhere upstairs. Him and Erica have been left alone; the third wheels, the lonely singles, or, almost lonely singles. 

"Are you and Boyd...?" Stiles takes another breath, lets himself lose himself in the curls and snags of Erica's hair. It's soothing, and he's never had hair like this to run his fingers through. Scott's been like this, but never his.

Erica tilts her head up, and wide eyes, surrounded by so much dark make-up, stare up into his. "Gimme." She gestures to the barely lit joint in his hand. 

"I'm gonna try," Erica says between one drag and the next. 

"Try what?" Stiles asks. Scott's sofas are so comfortable. Melissa's probably going to go crazy about the smell of smoke in here, but that's Scott's problem, not his. 

"With Boyd, I think he likes me, y'know? And why shouldn't I get someone? Someone that can be mine?"

Oh, right, yeah. "Boyd is pretty hot."

"Yeah... he is. And, he's quiet, but when it's just us he talks, and he's kind of intense, and he's really kind and, and I just... I think I'm gonna try." 

Stiles nods, they'll be good together, Boyd and Erica. They'd have cute babies. He tells her so. 

Erica's laughter is like sharp, sudden, and piercing but it's a good kind of laughter, bone deep. She shakes on his thighs as she laughs, and laughs, and laughs. After a minute he can't not join her, even though he can't really remember what they were laughing about. 

Laughing feels good, laughing feels amazing, so he laughs some more. When they come down, tears in their eyes, and an ache in his chest from trying to grab breaths, he confesses, "I can't remember why we were laughing." 

"Because of babies," Erica tells him, and it doesn't really help him remember, but he loves the amusement in her voice. He likes this Erica, she's like Scott but with boobs. 

"I like it when you don't threaten me."

"Mm," she agrees. 

They trade the joint back and forth a few more times. Isaac left some shitty post-hardcore on before he went to pee and never came back. (He's asleep, Erica insists, and Stiles would kill for those sense, sometimes, even thinks it might be worth the cost.)

It's easier like this, it's like the drugs quiet his mind, give him a break from the crushing worry, from the need to not stop until everything is sorted, everything is safe. He's glad his dad's the Sheriff, that he won't bring drugs into the house because of that lecture when he was thirteen that he can still feel in the pit of his stomach if he thinks about it too long. Because if his dad wasn't, he swears he'd spend every day high, not giving a shit about everything going on, and everyone would probably die without him. 

He needs to be sharp, needs to be manic, needs to be able to do everything he can to protect people. Calm and relaxed isn't going to keep his friends alive. 

"What about you?" Erica squirms around on his lap, trying to get more comfortable. 

"What about me?" He wants to warn her, tell her to quit it with the friction before he pops an inappropriate boner, but, it seems like an awkward conversation, so he spreads his legs, gives himself a bit more room and shifts Erica's head back onto his stomach. 

She settles in quick enough, drags Stiles's hand back to her hair. He hadn't even noticed that he was still twisting bits of it around his fingers, still pulling apart the brittle hair-sprayed curls. 

"What about you and... Lydia?" She waits for a moment, but Stiles doesn't know what to say. "...Derek?"

He tenses up, no one's supposed to know he even... to know his dick even--. No one's supposed to be able to read him like that. 

"Don't worry, I'm just pretty good at watching you. Habit."

"I don't-- I thought Lydia, but I don't-- I've got a ten year plan." He passes up the next toke of the joint, he needs to-- think. He's floundering, feeling oddly vulnerable with someone actually-- not even Scott knows--. 

"Ten years is a long time." She sounds older than sixteen, suddenly. Does that come with being a werewolf, or just with being an outsider?

"Not when I love her."

Erica doesn't say anything for a few moments, enough that he cranes his head down, pushing his chin against his neck to get a better look at her. Her eyes are closed, her head's tipped up into his hands and huh, he's still stroking through her hair. 

"I thought I was going to wait forever for... someone." She takes another drag, holds it until almost no air gets out. Her lipstick's long gone, but her lips are still full with youth and... she's beautiful, she really is. He wishes it hadn't taken the bite to bring this out of her, and he wonders if they would have ever been friends-- before. "But then I changed, then Boyd came along."

There's the unspoken, 'maybe it'll happen for you'.

He tips his head back against the arm of the sofa, lets his eyes slip close and takes a breath, then another. The air feels good in his lungs, so does the weight of Erica on him. It feels right, he hadn't given much thought to how little touch there is in his life. 

"I don't think so. I don't--" He frowns, he's not, he tries not to think about these things, because he's probably not going to live long enough for it to be anything but a childish fantasy. 

"It's alright, you don't need to explain yourself. I just, have you ever...?" 

It's strange talking to Erica, talking to someone other than Scott about teenage shit. He wonders if it should feel weird that he's talking to Erica about his, to a girl. "I've-- no. I've not--" He fumbles over the words. He never lies, but that's because people in the locker room never even bother to ask, and Scott already knows.

Being a virgin isn't a surprise, but he's not even... "I've never even kissed anyone." 

There's a pause, and part of him actually worries about being mocked, his walls are lower, thinner than they normally are. He doesn't think it's the drugs, he thinks it's just this setting with someone who's as much a loser as him, who doesn't have this magical life, not like Scott's become. 

"I've not either," Erica tells him. "I didn't-- I think you're supposed to have at parties by now? But, I didn't-- parties weren't really my thing." 

He can hear the unspoken, "No one invited me, I couldn't go anyway". As much of an outcast he is (because who wants the Sheriff's son at your party?) he's still-- he's still better than Erica is, or was. 

"Do you ever worry that you'll get your perfect someone, your Lydia, or..." Erica trails off. Doesn't say his name this time. "You'll get them and then you'll suck, and it'll be awkward and you--" 

"Yes, all the time." Of course he worries about this, he worries about everything. There's only so much he can google, only so much he can research, he's got no point of actual experience, no one he can really ask questions to. Scott just shrugs him off with a smile, gets the dopey grin only Allison's name can invoke. 

"Ever thought about doing anything about it?" He can hear the change in her voice, knows she's looking up at him. Suddenly he's aware of how close she is to his dick, how much her werewolf senses must be telling her. 

"I thought-- maybe a club, or, yeah. Yeah, I've thought about it."

They've been in the same position for so long he's almost forgotten they can move, almost forgot they were two separate people, not some amorphous blob attached to the sofa. 

It's pretty good weed.

But anyway, where was he? Oh, yeah, they've been there so long that he's almost amazed when Erica moves, when she pushes herself up, turns around so she's kneeling above him. It's barely a moment before she's straddling him, and he can't do anything but helplessly look up at her, at the curtain of golden hair that drops around them as she leans forward. 

"Would you... did you ever think about it with me?" 

He licks his lips, pulls himself up so he's leaning back against the arm of the sofa, Erica still above him. "Are we-- do you mean, sex?" 

She frowns, perfect brows drawing in. "I don't-- maybe? I don't think so, I just-- What if Boyd's is the first dick I see? What if I do something stupid, or--"

"He's probably-- I don't think Boyd's the ladies man you think he is." It's suddenly harder to look at Erica, to know she can probably tell that his dick is hella into this. He's aware of how beautiful Erica is, how... well endowed she is. 

"I don't care if Boyd's a virgin, I just, I don't like surprises. I don't want awkward fumbling, or to say something stupid if his junk does something weird." 

Stiles' brows shoot up. "What the hell are you expecting?" He looks down to where his dick is filling up his baggy jeans. Dicks don't do overly weird shit? 

"I don't know! That's the point." She huffs, and Stiles knows he's upset her. Normally he wouldn't give a shit, but they were-- there was sharin. It felt nice not to feel so alone. 

He grabs her arm as she goes to move off of him. "No wait, I didn't-- " he flounders. "I'd love to kiss you."

"You don't have to." Erica's lower lip juts out just a little, wet and shiny. . 

He licks his lips, aware of how dry his mouth is. He can-- okay, this is-- practice. He can do that. He loosens his hold on Erica's arm and carefully slides his hand up her arm. That's supposed to be good, right? That's how you touch, uh, caress? 

Slowly he leans forward, giving her more than enough time to pull away, he licks his lips again, but there's barely anything there. That's not a good start, is that a good start? Erica's eyes fall close as he gets near, but he keeps his open, how else is he supposed to see where her lips are? 

His hands come up without him thinking about them, to steady Erica's head as brings his lips in. He can't think about tongues, even though he knows there are supposed to be tongues at some point. Erica's lips are warm against his, their noses bump slightly, until he angles his head. 

He's not sure what's next? Does he, what do... he pulls away and watches as Erica's eyes flutter open. He kissed someone. It was terrifying, but nothing bad happened. 

"Oh," Erica says. "That wasn't horrible. Your lips were dry."

He licks his lips reflexively. "Yeah, I... cotton mouth."

She reaches over to the coffee table, and hands him the cherry coke she'd been drinking earlier. "Can we try again?" 

He takes a few sips, the coke's warm and sticky in his mouth, almost flat. He wonders what time it is and how long ago they opened it. When did they finished the last joint? Long enough that his brain is clearer than it was, because he can hold a thought and string them together. 

The second the can's on the floor Erica's lips are on his, and she's holding his chin to keep him steady; he lets his eyes slip close. They both try to move their noses out of the way his time, and pull apart laughing as they pick the same direction twice in a row. 

The laughter actually helps, clearing a little of the tension in the room. 

"I'm going to go left," Erica tells him. 

"Your left, or my left?" Stiles takes another sip of the coke. He was thirsty, so thirsty. 

"My left."

This time it's better, when Erica's tongue presses at the seam of his lips he opens easily. It's weird, someone else's tongue in his mouth, against his own. The taste of smoke and cherry coke is overpowering, making it something he's never going to forget. At least if he dies, he can do it knowing he did this, he kissed someone; Erica Reyes. 

They break apart, and he finds himself panting a little, his dick's hard in his pants. "Wow, kissing."

"Yeah, who knew?" Erica grins at him. Her lips are wet, and he did that. 

"Is there other stuff you want to do?" Any worry is gone, replaced with excitement, because this is, this is sex stuff, he's actually with a girl, and they're, aw yeah. 

Erica pulls her hair back, puts it up with a tie off her wrist. He hadn't realised she was hiding behind it until just now. "I wanna see your dick." 

He's not ashamed of his dick, has googled enough to know it's a good size and there's nothing weird about it, but he still hesitates. 

Erica bites her lip. "You don't...."

"No, it's fine!" He flails a little and thinks if Erica wasn't a werewolf he probably would have knocked her off. "My jeans are too tight anyway." It doesn't take much to get him hard, and kissing a pretty girl, well. 

She sits back on his thighs, giving him enough room to reach down and start unbuttoning his fly. 

"Wait."

He stills his hands, looks up at Erica. A few stray hairs are slipping out of her messy bun, catching in the dimmed lights of the living room, making her glow. She reaches out towards his crotch, hand hovering just near his open fly. 

"Uh, sure." He pulls his hands away, but can't find where to rest them so he folds them on his stomach, the muscles there tense already as Erica's hand gently rests on the outline of his dick. 

He fingers are feather light, he can barely even feel them. He pushes his hands under his back, to give them somewhere to rest. They feel safe, secure, pinned to the sofa by his weight. 

"You can press harder." She does, but not enough. "Harder."

"Really?"

He nods, bites his lip as she strokes him through the worn denim of his jeans, making his cock jump. He's not sure where to look, is he allowed to look at Erica? Allowed to look at the way her boobs shift under her top? 

"It moved!" She pulls back. 

He feels his cheeks heating up. "Uh, it does that sometimes?" 

Erica slaps him on the chest, and he thinks it's supposed to be playful but it stings a little. "This is the weird shit I was talking about!" 

"Oh. Then let me go back to that... yes, dicks sometimes do weird shit." 

He's pretty sure this should've damped his erection, but it hasn't. Erica leans forward, hand rubbing over where she slapped, like she knows she hit too hard. Her lips on his are expected, her tongue pushing into his mouth. Both hands are between them, and when the cool air hits his cock he can't help but break the kiss. 

"Do you wanna see my tits?" Erica asks, before Stiles can say anything. "I figure it's more than fair seeing as your dick's out."

One thing he knows is he's a tits kinda guy. At least he thinks he is. He nods. 

It's only a second for Erica to pull her tank over her head, and then he's faced with an actual bra, hot pink and lacy, with Erica's tits filling it up perfectly, and a cleavage that he kinda just wants to bury his face in. 

He reaches forward without thinking, hands almost touching her bra, before it's gone. 

"How the hell?" He hadn't seen her reach behind, or-- "How did you--?"

She laughs, shrugs and drops the bra to the side. "Girl secrets, I can't share them all with you." 

Now the bra's gone he can see them in all their glory. Erica's tits are kind of perfect, they're soft looking, with pretty pink nipples already hard in the cool air. "You have really pretty breasts." 

The light's dim in here, but he thinks she blushes. "Aw, thank you, I mean." She looks down between them, gestures at his cock. "You have a really pretty dick, I think. I've not seen that many. Wait, is 'pretty dick' an insult?" 

The strangeness of the situation almost has Stiles laughing, the night's taken such a weird turn he doesn't even know anymore. 

"I've not heard it outside of gay porn, but, I'll take it. Thanks." He stares at her tits, and wonders what happens now? He's seen a lot of porn, but, he also knows a load of shit that looks good in porn doesn't exactly feel great when he does it to himself. 

Erica takes the decision out of his hands as she lets go of his cock to drag his hands up to her breasts. "Like this," she tells him, and then he's got a handful of soft, smooth skin, and they're so much heavier than he ever thought they would be. 

He rubs a thumb over her nipples and watches as they harden. Without thinking he brings his mouth to them, he wants to lick, to taste. Erica gasps when his mouth makes contact, her hand tightening on his dick, making him pull back. 

"Shit, Stiles," she says, bringing fingers up to his mouth. "You just can't help yourself, can you? I swear to god I lost so much time in Chemistry just thinking about your mouth." 

He can't stop licking his lips, there's still the taste of cherry coke there, which means... yeah, it's smeared over her nipple now, shining with his spit. 

Kissing is good, he is so down with kissing that it's unreal, he wants to kiss all the people. Her hand's back on his dick, it's dry, but fuck, someone else is touching his dick, while they're kissing him. The kiss turns kinda agressive, like an argument. When he pulls back for breath Erica's grinning at him. 

"So does this feel good?" She strokes up his dick once, it's not _bad_. He's not going to tell her to stop, but part of him wants to take over, wants to tell her where to put her hands, what to do. "Or... how would you do it?"

"Slicker, it needs to be slicker, I'd normally..." A quick scan of the table tells him there's nothing but the a couple of joints and some more coke. Nothing useful. 

"I've got some hand cream in my purse, hang on."

He raises an eyebrow. She doesn't seem like the hand cream type. 

"The claws are hell on my cuticles," she says with a shrug, reaching down to her purse. The smooth plains of her stomach creasing as she digs through it. He's never really watched a naked girl just... be. He's seen plenty of boys, but there's something less angular about Erica, something softer. 

Not that he'd ever have the guts to call Erica soft to her face. 

The hand cream is cookies and cream scent and Stiles kinda wants to lick it because it smells amazing. 

He holds his dick with one hand, and squirts the hand cream down its length with the other. It's cold as fuck, but that's probably a good thing, because there's a hot, topless girl staring at his dick so she can figure out how to touch him, and as much as he wants to blow his load all over her, he's not quite sure what's polite in this situation. 

Or how to bring it up in conversation. 

She watches him for a minute, and he can't help but look at her, she's staring so intently at his dick. She's sucking on her lower lip as she watches, and even in the low light he can see they're a little redder than normal, her lipstick smeared. He did that, to her, fuck. 

She drags his hand away from his dick. "I think I've got it." 

Then it's someone else's hand there, and it's so much better now, Erica's quick, she's clever, and when her thumb swipes over the head on an upstroke his hips actually jerk up into her fist. 

"Fuck," he breathes. "That's... yeah. Fuck." 

Erica's grin is wicked, and the sound of the slide of skin against skin is barely audible over the shitty music they've still not turned off. 

"Is this all you do?" She asks, sliding her fingers through the hair at the base of his cock, scritching them up and tugging a little. 

His hips buck up, making Erica and her tits bounce. She laughs, loud. 

"You like that then, huh? What else do you do, show me." 

He's not proud of the noise that comes out, but, fuck. He wants to listen to her, but he also wants to touch her, to get those beautiful breasts back in his mouth, back in his hands. 

"Touch yourself, Stiles. For me?" 

He bites his lip, and nods his head. Without thinking about it one hand slips up his tee to his nipple, and the other drops past Erica's hand and down to his balls. He has to lift his hips, and Erica, to push his jeans down a little, just enough to get to his guys. 

"Your balls are really fuzzy." 

Erica watches as he cups them before pulling them away from his dick a little. He tries to spread his legs, but Erica and his jeans keep him pinned there. 

"Nipples are a thing for guys as well?" 

"They are for me." He rubs one, then the other, letting a little bit of his bitten-down nails catch against them. It feels good, the little zing of pleasure that runs to his cock. 

Erica's started to vary the speed of her strokes, quicker, then slower, stopping to tease at any bits that make him gasp. She grabs a little more hand cream and the smell fills the room again. 

"Your heart's beating crazy quick," she tells him, spreading precome around his slit. "And you know what's interesting?"

"What," he gasps out, given up on fondling his balls, instead his hand is gripping his thigh. He's close, really close. 

"Everytime I do this--" Erica rubs her thumb just under his cockhead and his dick jerks in her hand, as he screws his eyes shut. "--you do that." 

"Fuck, Erica, Erica," he repeats. "I'm really close, like, really close, where do you want me--" 

She pauses and he lets out a whine of protest. No no no, he was almost there, his gut was clenching. He bites his lip, takes a breath. "Erica...." he complains. "Don't stop." 

He's so hot and sweaty, and she's... probably nowhere near as wrecked as he is. He doesn't even know where to look to tell on a girl, he can't see if she's wet, not when she still has her skirt on. It's ridden up some, showing her pale thighs, muscles all bunched up, but that's it. 

Thumping his head back against the sofa, he stares up at her, at the flush on her cheeks, at her fucking perfect tits (has he said that already?). "Erica, c'mon."

"How far does your jizz get when you come?" She's lets go of his dick and it's springs flat to lie against his stomach, beads of precome clinging to his treasure trail. 

"Uh." He scratches his head. "It can kinda get pretty far." 

She wrinkles her nose. "How far is pretty far?" 

"I'm really good at getting jizz out of my hair."

"Ew, _Stiles_. I'm going to go get some tissues, just... stay there."

"Hey, it's a skill!" He reaches down to lose his jeans in the least elegant way possible. Erica comes back with a wad of tissues and climbs back astride him. 

"Okay, you get come in _my_ hair and I'm not gonna be impressed, 'kay?" 

Stiles nods, dumbstruck, because Erica's got a hand 'round his dick, tissues ready to catch his spunk, and is leaning down to kiss him. She's fucking awesome. 

"Now c'mon, Batman," she says, her breath hot against his lips. "You gonna be a good boy and come for me?"

Her hand speeds up, thumb swiping his sensitive head at the end of every stroke. His gut clenches and muscles pull taut as he arches off the sofa. Erica pins him down with way more strength than a human of her size should be able to manage. He can feel his orgasm building, feel his balls drawing up impossibly tight. He bites his lips, can't decide whether to bite or lick them. 

His hands are gripping the side of the sofa so hard, and Erica doesn't stop, she jerks him straight until his toes are curling, and he's shooting, imagining his jizz landing all over her creamy breasts. 

Fuck. That's. Fuck. 

It takes forever to get his breathing under control, and Erica bundles up the tissues and drops them onto the coffee table. 

"That was fun," she declares, reaching over for a joint and lighter. "Thanks, Stiles."

Her hair's falling out of the messy bun she put it into, her cheeks are still glowing, and she's so fucking beautiful. 

He tries to say something, but his voice cracks. Erica hands him the last of the water and he tries again. "Don't you want me to get you off?" 

Erica pauses, suddenly not quite as self-assured. "Are you offering?" 

"I... yeah. It'd be a douchey thing to do, to not return the favor."

"I don't want to have sex with you."

His cock actually twitches at that. "That's not what I was thinking. I could use my fingers? Or..." He pauses, thinks how much he actually wants to do this. Yeah. Fuck, he does. "...maybe my mouth?

"I... oh, how am I supposed to say no to that offer?" 

"Okay, let me smoke this and, then, yeah. Yeah."

He pulls his boxers up and tucks himself away. There's something surreal about sitting here next to Erica on the sofa, when he's only wearing a tshirt and boxers, and she's only got a skirt on. 

They fall easily into each other, there's a part of him that wants to be close to the person who just made him feel this fucking good. But that'd be weird right? And they're already plenty close, Erica's side is pressed up against his, skin warm on his own. 

"Your skin's so smooth," he says, stroking a hand up her bare arm before he even realises what he's doing. She shivers, and he pulls away. "Sorry, sorry."

"Why?" She holds out the now-lit joint for him to take. "We're pretty far into the casual-touching without permission territory."

"Yeah? Right, yeah, yeah." 

He licks his lips and Erica lightly slaps him on the arm. "Stop getting the joint soggy! I swear, you're such a rookie." 

She snatches the joint out of his hand and before he can process she's inhaling, puffing out her cheeks. Then he has a lap of semi-naked Erica. It doesn't take much for him to get the idea, when her lips descend on his, he opens his mouth and yeah, there's the steady stream of smoke from Erica's mouth. 

It's different like this, he has to concentrate less, but then Erica's pulling his hands up to her tits, and they feel _so good_ in his hands. They part a few times, and he can feel the smoke passing out between them, filling his nose with the acrid smell of weed. 

Erica's straddling him, and he's so aware of how it pushes her skirt up, he might have come, but she hasn't, and he's not going to be _that guy_. 

He drops his hands to her thighs, they're smoother than her arms, if that's even possible, his own are so fucking furry, but Erica's are baby-smooth. He slides his hands up, slow enough that she must know where he's heading. He's got a goal, and now he's down with this, he can't wait to get there, to make Erica feel as good as she made him feel. 

Also, he's burning with curiosity, the desire to explore something new, somewhere he's never had a chance to be before. Before he realises it he hits the elastic edge of her panties, running his finger over the edge once, twice.

"Can I?" he breathes, against her lips. 

"Yeah, yeah..." Her hands start running through the buzzed hair at the base of his neck, grasping at the short strands. 

They keep kissing as he slips a finger under the edge of her panties. There's soft hair, nowhere near as coarse as his own, and she's so soft. 

He's seen a diagram before, of course he has, he's nosey, he has an internet connection. But nothing could have prepared him for this, the reality of having someone to please. 

"Go on, Stiles, touch me." Erica drops a hand down and draws his hand into the heat of her. 

His fingers dip into her slit, where she's so fucking warm and wet. 

"Fuck, Erica," he gasps, feels his cock already filling out. "You're... slippery down here." 

Erica hums. "Yeah, means you're doing good." 

He doesn't preen, he doesn't, and if he does, well, no one but Erica is there to see him. "Okay, okay, what do I do?"

"Higher, you want to go higher, keep your fingers up near my clit, yeah, keep rubbing, okay, yeah, yeah." 

His fingers are slipping in her folds, the wetness less than further back. He can feel one stiffer part of her and focuses in on it, finds a part of it that makes her tug at his hair and bite at his lips. 

"Is this the only place that feels good?" he asks, rubbing like he would under the head of his cock. Erica's hips are moving in small circles, grinding her cunt into his hand. 

"It-- you can touch other places, inside, feels nice, not like this, but, nice." 

"Can I put my fingers inside you?"

She nods. "I've had plenty of toys inside me before." 

He frowns, fingers circling her entrance. He's not managed to get anything he wants, not without a credit card or his dad knowing. Beacon Hills' one sex shop had kicked him out. "Yeah? How the hell did you manage to get your hands on--" 

"Oh honey, no one IDs when you have breasts like these." Erica bites off a moan as he slips a finger inside. She's tighter and warm here, it feels like he's dipped his fingers into... fuck, he doesn't know, but the thought of it around his dick takes him from half-hard to raging boner in no time at all. 

His dick's kind of in the way, so he reluctantly pulls his fingers out, and they switch to Erica laying flat on the sofa, denim skirt pushed up to her waist. The crotch of her panties is soaked through now and he feels a surge of pride; he helped do that. 

She reaches up and drags her panties off, not caring as they roll into almost-nothing. 

"You sure about this, Stiles?" She asks, legs falling apart easily. In the low light of the room he can see her cunt glistening. He was right, she's not completely hairless, but it's definitely way more than he's ever seen in porn.

He licks his lips, mouth a little dry, but it should be fine, it should. "Is it... safe? Shouldn't we, there should be protection?"

Erica shrugs. "Derek says we can't catch human diseases, and I'm not... what we're doing there's no chance I'm getting pregnant."

It's a lot for his brain to process. The words make sense, and they're both virgins, he guesses it's not a problem. "Okay, right, yeah." 

"Unless... unless you're worried about the taste?" The frown marring her brow is cute, but he doesn't like her frowning, not when he's taking on the burden of her happiness for this tiny bit of time. Besides, he wants to know, he wants to taste. 

He tells her so. 

"Okay, then, you're good to go." She lays back, knee swaying side to side, slightly, like she's nervous, but won't show it. It's so Erica. 

Now he can see what he's doing he can't look away. Her cunt's a pretty pink, the same pink as her nipples and covered in a fine layer of blond hair, but darker than her head. Her lips are slightly parted, and as he strokes up she twitches as he passes her clit. 

"You're concentrating so hard, it's so cute." 

"Hey, I want to do this right!" 

"I'm not complaining." She grins and pulls him up for a kiss, hand fisting in the front of his tshirt. 

He drops back down, slips his fingers back inside her. 

"Stroke up, like, do you ever," she pauses. "Do you ever finger your ass?"

He stills. He doesn't-- it's not that, he's not gay, okay? He's just open to anything that might feel good anything that--

"It's not a problem!" She props herself up on her elbows. "I just, it's the same kinda-- oh shit, yeah, yeah, that!"

He strokes up, encouraged by Erica's reaction. He gets close, close enough that the smell of Erica's sex is overwhelming. It's not... it's different from the smell of his spunk. Earthier? Riper? He never really got that description before, but it's heady. 

The first touch of her on his tongue isn't exactly delicious, but the sound she lets out is. He keeps stroking his fingers up inside her, and focuses his mouth on her hard clit. He laps at it and grins at the way her thighs tighten around his face. 

This is fucking awesome. He tries sucking, then tries the flat of his tongue under her clit and that gets her hands in his hair, holding him in place. It's warm and damp down here, the air so close. He pulls back for a breath and dives in deeper, so his nose is buried in her pubic hair, every breath hot against her skin. 

The moans from Erica are getting louder, and he tries to stay focused on her clit. He licks and sucks as much as he can, gushes of wet coating his fingers and dripping onto his hand. The room's quiet now, the shitty music gone, instead it's filled with the sound of him eating Erica out. 

He shifts so he can rub his dick on the sofa, because fuck this is hot, this is fucking amazingly hot. 

Any noises he makes are muffled in her cunt, and he thinks she's close, her thighs are getting tighter, her hands rougher, and she's grinding into his face. It's not something he ever thought he'd be into but apparently, from the way he thinks he's about to come in his pants, it is. 

Erica's movements become erratic under him when she comes, cunt clenching rhythmically around his fingers, and when she's pulling him away from her cunt, the cool air of the room on his face is a shock. His face is smeared with her juices, he can feel some of it slowly dribbling down his chin. 

Licking a stripe of her off of him, Erica falls back against the sofa with a soft sigh.

He sits back on his legs. He's hard, and wants to come, but he wants to look at Erica more, see her face after she's come. 

"Shit, Stiles," she says, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smile. "You were pretty fucking good at that." 

He ducks his head. "Glad you enjoyed it." The weed is still buzzing through his system, along with the arousal, and high from getting someone off for the first time. 

"You're hard again? Huh, well, don't be offended, but I always love the second orgasm, too." 

She slips a hand down, lazily circles her clit. He can see her hips twitch every time she gets near her cunt, but the light touches get more insistent, and then she's working her clit, hard and fast, moaning with it. 

"Stiles, you gonna jerk off for me, or what?" 

He doesn't need to be told twice, pushes his boxers down to under his balls, and a grabs a wad of tissue. 

This isn't going to take long, not with the taste of Erica still on his lips, not with the way she's racing to her second orgasm in front of him. Her cunt's puffy and wet, and making gentle slapping noises as she works herself. 

"Gonna come, Stiles. You gonna come too?" Her hair's barely in it's bun anymore, loose strands plastered to her head with sweat. 

It's too dry, but he works himself harder, feels the orgasm building low, this is going to be over soon. He leans into the back of the sofa, bracing himself there. Fingers tight in the tissues, he traces Erica's face, her eyes are already closed, stomach clenching and breath uneven. 

"Yeah, yeah, Stiles," she repeats, and then she's gone, clenching around her fingers, strokes slower, just barely touching her clit until she's still. Her chest is heaving but that's all. 

Stiles doesn't last much longer, his orgasm spreads out, pleasure running from his cock up and down his body, a wave of pleasure that settles on him and leaves him boneless. He slumps back onto the sofa, barely manages to pull up his boxers. 

They sit in silence, nothing but their uneven breaths filling the room. He tosses the tissue in the direction of the bin, knows he'll have to pick it up before Scott or his mom see them. 

"There's one joint left," Erica says, after a few moments. "Want to smoke it?"

He nods, wipes the wetness around his mouth, wipes Erica off him, with the back of his hand. 

She stands, pulls her panties back on, and kicks off her skirt. He realises he's watching and looks away. When he looks back she's got her tank back on. 

He washes the taste of her away with the last of the cherry coke, flat and warm. It mixes with the taste of her, strange in his mouth. 

"Budge up." She makes a scooting motion. 

He hesitates. If they stay here, if they sleep here, which he thinks-- he's not far from sleep. If they do then people will know, in the morning people will find them here-- "We could go wash up, if you don't want people--"

"I don't mind if people know that we... I'm not ashamed, we're friends, yeah?"

He nods, and she sits next to him, comfortable in his space like she hadn't been before. "Yeah." 

They pass the joint back and forth a few times, the burn of it feels good, the weed mellowing him as the hour and the orgasms all catch up with him. He feels... good, sleepy, sated. 

"Do you think, would it be okay if we just..." He wants to hold Erica close, to be held but he doesn't know if that's something he can just do, something he can just assume. They got each other off, but how far does that extend? But fuck, he feels a bit raw, a bit open

She rolls her head toward him. "...what?" The joint's nothing but roach now. 

"Ireallywanttocuddleokay?"

Erica laughs, but it's not mean, not mocking. "Yeah, Stiles, we can cuddle, that'd, yeah, that'd be cool."

He shifts so he's lying down, and Erica rests against him. 

"Night, Stiles."

"Night, Erica. 

There's a moment, and then Erica's arm settles on his stomach, curling around his side.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Her hair smells like whatever shampoo she uses, and the weed still hangs heavy in the air. He's glad he did this with Erica, not some stranger in a club. 

*

He wakes up to his mouth tasting like cherry coke, and ass, well, he guesses it's not ass, it's Erica. His mouth tastes like cherry coke, Erica and sleep. Gross. 

There's still an alpha pack to deal with, and pretty red hair and scowling eyebrows, but for now, he buries his face in her neck, and lets her draw him close, he lets himself have this peace for a little while longer.

* 

fin

**Author's Note:**

> i mostly dwell on tumblr, which i can add once this revealsss


End file.
